Flight 1019  By Reservation Only
by Maya Beebop
Summary: Authors from all over the Red Eye fandom have been mysteriously sent free plane tickets for a vaguely familiar flight.  But from who?  And why?
1. Session One: Ready For Take Off

**(A/N):** This is purely meant as a work of comic humor and fanfiction. It is not intended to offend or impugne the writing skills of any of my fellow writers. It is simply my take on how I would like to voice my own God-given right to an opinion.

**Commandments**: Thou shalt not review me with an unfounded flame. Thou shalt not take this fic seriously. Thou shalt laugh, or thou shalt just not read it. I'm going to continue it with or without you anyway.

* * *

**Session One: Ready For Take-Off**

"Good evening, ladies…and one gentleman. Welcome to Fresh Air flight 1019, red eye out of Houston to Miami. Please take your seats and buckle in; your captain will address you shortly."

Endless chatter rose up again from the virtually all-female group that was seated in the coach section of the plane. They all seemed to be discussing the same topic, deviating only from their favorite romantic pairing to comment about the single male occupant of the flight.

"You think someone tried to do a slash OC?" one, a brunette, commented.

"I don't know. He's kind of cute, though. Wonder why he's here," her fellow passenger returned, flipping back her own brown hair and craning her neck to get a good look at him.

The boy, in his late teens as it were, was raven-haired, green-eyed and scowling. He also was covered in almost-healed long, clean scars, including a long, thick one just under his right jaw-line. It looked as if someone had once tried to slit his throat. The girl who was lucky enough to sit next to him was trying to make conversation, but he was remaining gruff and reserved. Finally she gave up and turned to the woman who sat across the aisle in the center section.

"So what are the chances we'd all get these awesome tickets? I mean, I'm saving mine. The coincidence is just amazing!" she raved.

"I'm getting my ticket laminated," the other girl boasted.

"I'm getting mine framed!" a third chimed in.

A couple near the front were whispering. They were trying to sneak peeks into the First Class section to see if anyone was lucky enough to have been bumped up there.

"I can see someone. There's definitely someone in one of the seats," one muttered.

"Yeah. The stewardess is talking to them. Can you see if it's a man or a woman?"

"No, I can't see anything."

The plane began to taxi for the runway. Everyone buckled up and readied for takeoff. Soon they were in the air and cruising at 35,000 feet. Chatter resumed when the ascent stopped.

Suddenly the captain came over the loudspeaker and everyone hushed up. "GOOD EVENING, LADIES AND SINGLE GENTLEMAN. I AM YOUR CAPTAIN AND WILL BE THE IRREFUTABLE VOICE OF REASON ON THIS FLIGHT. SHOULD THINGS GET OUT OF HAND, WE DO HAVE A LARGE STOCK OF PARACHUTES AND ANY SHENANIGANS WILL BE DEALT WITH BY A SWIFT BACKPACKING AND A KICK OUT THE AIRLOCK. THAT SAID, I'LL LET YOUR CO-PILOT COME OUT AND GIVE YOU THE REAL INTRODUCTIONS."

While the passengers puzzled this statement, a woman in pilot's garb appeared out of the cockpit and stood behind a small podium that had been placed in the empty space in the front of the cabin. She smiled warmly and waved to get everyone's attention.

"Well, hello everyone. It's good to see you're all here; it would have been a shame if someone had missed the flight. I promise it will be very enlightening.

"My name is Co-Pilot Beebop, or Miss Maya if you want to be less formal. I'll be serving as the mediator on today's instructional flight."

A hand shot up in the back. Slightly irked that she was already being interrupted, Miss Maya nodded to it. "Yes?"

The owner of the offending hand sat up as best she could. "Yeah, why can't we unbuckle ourselves?"

Miss Maya smirked. "It's for our passengers' protection."

"What? How do you expect us to go to the bathroom?"

"Not _your_ protection. The other passengers'. We wouldn't want anyone getting hurt, so we need you to remain in your seats."

"Who else is on the plane?"

"If you'd let me start my speech, you'd find out, wouldn't you?" Miss Maya snapped, and the girl shut up.

"You're not on this flight to learn anything new or to get an opportunity to meet with people you most likely want to meet. Excuse me, let me rephrase that: _person_ you most likely want to meet. You are on this flight simply to be told the simple facts of certain matters by those involved. How you deal with it is your own cross to bear.

"With that, I'll open the stand to questions-…" She saw about fifty hands in the air. "…-That do _not_ concern who else is on this plane just yet."

Ninety percent of the hands went down. About four remained up. She gestured to one.

The woman cocked her head. "Why do we all look the same?"

"Well," Miss Maya shrugged. "It's your own fault for not coming up with anything else to look like. If you want to impersonate Lisa Reisert, who am I to stop you? You're welcome to look like your creators if you wish."

This was met with some approval, and some confusion. The next girl to ask a question was less delicate. "Who's the dude?"

Miss Maya looked to the boy with a knowing smile, and he glanced back with a look of pure loathing.

"Him? He's my son…in a manner of speaking. And he's not too happy with me, as well he shouldn't be. It _is_ my fault for putting him through an awful lot. Any other questions?"

There were none.

"Alright then. Now I'm going to bring out our guest of honor, and there will be no screaming, shrieking, crying, cheering, mooning, flashing, sighing, or attempts to woo at all, or the session will end immediately. Understood?"

There was utter silence as the girls nodded softly.

"Alright." Miss Maya walked over to the velvet curtain that separated the first class cabin from coach. As she pulled it aside, a figure walked through. As promised, there was no screaming, shrieking, crying, cheering, mooning, flashing, sighing, or attempts to woo, but there was an audible gasp and sigh of pure fangirly delight.

Jackson Rippner took the stand.

* * *

I am looking for authors to be included in this fic. If you would like to be included, **DO NOT POST A BIO IN THE REVIEW**! Fill out the following fields **in an E-mail** to me titled "Red Eye Fic Bio" or something to that effect. I do not read junk mail or spam, so make sure the subject field make sense to me. 

_Name to appear in fic:_

_Physical description (hair color, height, clothing style):_

_Type of Red Eyefic you write (sequel, reflective, AU):_

_Do you support the Jackson/Lisa pairing? (Yes or No):_

_Any other notes you wish to include:_


	2. Session Two: Ripping It A New One

**(A/N):** This is purely meant as a work of comic humor and fanfiction. It is not intended to offend or impugne the writing skills of any of my fellow writers. It is simply my take on how I would like to voice my own God-given right to an opinion. 

**Commandments**: Thou shalt not review me with an unfounded flame. Thou shalt not take this fic seriously. Thou shalt laugh, or thou shalt just not read it. I'm going to continue it with or without you anyway.

Thanks for the sign-ups! Everyone who sent an e-mail got in.

* * *

**Session Two: "Ripp"ing It A New One**

There were squeals of rapture. Miss Maya groaned; she'd forgotten to ban squealing. Oh well; it was too late now.

The boy, her "son", blinked once at Rippner before he simply unbuckled himself, stood, stepped over the girl that sat next to him, and walked down the aisle to the restroom in the back, which he locked himself in.

Some girls were distracted long enough to watch him go, waited for the red "occupied" light to blink on and then cry out in anger. "Why can _he_ unbuckle himself?" they demanded of Miss Maya.

She glanced down at the lavatory. "He's not required to be here during this portion of the flight."

Meanwhile, there were cries stating the blatantly obvious all over the cabin.

"Oh my God, it's Jackson!"

"He's so pretty!"

"Look at his perfect blue eyes!"

Jackson rolled his "perfect blue eyes" and sighed. Tapping the small cushioned microphone that was attached to the podium, he cleared his throat and bent down to speak into it.

"Um, good evening."

Swooning – also not banned – ensued. He waited yet again for them to calm down, and then gave a short, curt laugh. "If we have to put up with this all night, I'm never going to get a chance to say anything."

Complete and utter vacuum reigned supreme. One could hear the engines roaring away through the almost-soundproof walls.

"I'm here tonight, as well as the other guests, to speak about certain assumptions made concerning myself and Ms. Reisert."

Almost every ear in the room perked up, and the girls sat up straighter in their chairs. A couple happened to bat their eyelashes a bit, but a stern look from Miss Maya quelled that attempt at flirtation right off the bat.

"I'd like to make the public statement that I am a professional manager of assassinations and terroristic attacks. Not that any of you didn't already know that, I just thought it needed to be said. And as I'm still alive and not incarcerated at the present time, one can assume I'm very good at my job.

"I'd also like to point out that because of the nature of my job, it is imperative that I remain calm, collected, and in control of myself and my situation at all times. I do not let myself get distracted by personal issues or vendettas, or else I put my job in jeopardy. It's as simple as that."

He noticed a hand near the back.

"Um, hold all questions until the end. I promise there will be a Q & A."

The girls grinned. Goody!

"Ahem. As I was saying, I've conducted countless jobs in the past. I've dealt with people who have tried to resist more times that I want to remember, and while I may not have suffered such injuries as I did when dealing with Ms. Reisert…" Here he seemed to come under a strange emotion for just a split second. It was dark and held the slightest traces of a deep resentment, and then it was gone again. "…I certainly have sustained multiple wounds. If you could see my chest and back-…"

There was a collective sound that reminded one of the noise emitted by a mob of over-ecstatic marshmallow peeps. It was high-pitched, almost piercing, and then fell off into another long, contented sigh.

Jackson shook his head despairingly as the captain came over the speaker again.

"THERE WILL BE NO MORE MENTION OF MR. RIPPNER REVEALING ANY OF HIS BODY TO THE PASSENGERS, AS WE MOMENTARILY LOST THE BALANCE IN AIR PRESSURE DUE TO AN OVERLOADING RELEASE OF PENT-UP FRUSTRATION."

Jackson looked up at the speaker mounted above his head. "Poor choice of words," he explained before turning back. "What I meant to say was that I have scars much worse than those dealt to me recently. I'm not going to get vengeful just because she shot me."

The hand went up again. "What?" he demanded.

"Didn't she beat you with a field hockey stick?"

"Yes."

"And break her high heel off in your leg?"

"_Yes_."

"And stab that pen through-…"

"_Yes_!" he snarled. He leaned over the podium and inadvertently revealed under his collar the reddened skin and stitches scars that now decorated his throat. "I'm just saying that I've had worse and don't give a damn about all that! I'm not going to try to get personal because that's what gets you _caught_! You start trying to find a way to get back at them and then the police get involved and you make one wrong move and then you're looking at life with no chance of parole! I've seen it happen to the men I work with! Haven't _any_ of you considered that? That maybe I don't give a rat's-…"

"PLEASE REFRAIM FROM SWEARING, MR. RIPPNER. WE WANT TO KEEP THE RATING DOWN."

Jackson glowered. "That maybe I don't _care_ about Lisa Reisert," he growled under his breath. "At least not enough to actively pursue her. I have worked with women before. Didn't you grasp that by the way I explained the concept of male-driven fact-based logic to her? I practically _oozed_ misogynist back there.

"I have worked with women before. Lisa Reisert was _no different_. Thus concludes my prepared speech."

There was a grand total of twenty motionless seconds while Jackson stared the congregation down, daring them to say anything. One brave soul in the back meekly raised her hand.

Jackson stalked down the aisle and she cringed in her seat, afraid of what he was about to do. Every head turned and followed his progress until he halted in front of her. The girl, one of the few non-Lisa lookalikes, was shaking in her velour gauchos.

He bent down and placed his hands on the back of her seat and the seat in front of her, leering down in a very menacing fashion. Her carry-on bag had the name "Allie Stillwell" stitched on it, and he read it before looking back to her.

"_What_, Ms. Stillwell?" he snapped.

Pale green eyes wide with surprise, she was frozen, unsure as to whether be exploding with fangirl glee that he was so close to her or be wetting her skirt in mortal terror.

"Well?"

Pushing a strand of dark brown hair out of her eyes, she finally gathered herself enough to speak. "Are we going to get that question and answer session now?"

He bit his lower lip in an attempt to quell the frustration and fury that was surging under his skin. Using the most complex control of himself, Jackson jerkily stood up, made his way back to the front of the room, straightened his tie, adjusted his collar and managed a very shaky "Yes."

Miss Maya chimed in. "So long as the questions are not blatantly unacceptable or stupid."

Hands shot in the air. He nodded to one.

The girl sat up. She expertly flicked her caramel-colored hair over her shoulder and pulled a notepad and pen out of her black duster. "I'm Tiffany Kelson, Mr. Rippner. So you _don't_ support the Jackson/Lisa pairings we write?"

"No. I don't. And frankly, I don't care about your name, either."

She ignored this statement and quirked and eyebrow. "Why not? Why can't we have some artistic license?"

"Because it's not true. You may as well be writing for some grocery store tabloid about celebrities and aliens. We're _not_ in love. End of story. Another question; you."

The new girl cocked her head. Her name was Tess, but taking a note from Tiffany, she opted not to tell him that. "But you still have feelings for her? Deep down?"

Jackson groaned. "_No_! I do not like Lisa Reisert. As far as I know, she does not like me. You'll have a chance to ask her and hear it straight from the horse's mouth. I'm willing to put money on the fact that she hates me. In a _bad_ way, not in a romantic 'you threatened the Keefes, my father and me but you're attractive so I'll forgive you anyway' kind of way," he commented sarcastically.

"We're going to get to talk to Lisa?" Tess exclaimed.

"Ms. Reisert. Yes, after me."

"Will you be speaking together?"

"Probably not."

"Is there a chance?"

"Look, we're sitting on separate sides of the cabin up front with a _partition_ between us. We're using separate bathrooms."

This comment was met with knowing looks and a few high-pitched giggles and squeals. The intercom crackled again with the captain's voice.

"AGAIN, MR. RIPPNER, PLEASE REFRAIN FROM SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS AS IT CAUSES THE PASSENGERS TO OVERLOAD THE SYSTEM. NO MORE REFERENCES TO CERTAIN RESTROOM SCENES, YOUR BODY, CERTAIN DC COMIC VILLAINS OR 'BEING' WITH MS. REISERT IN ANY SENSE OF THE WORD."

"Why the DC Comic-…?"

"JUST ADHERE TO THE RULES, MR. RIPPNER."

Jackson shook his head and rubbed his temples. "Any other questions?"

"Will you be speaking again? About anything?"

He thought this over. "I suppose if the occasion calls for it I may make another statement or two. But my bulk of time is up and I have a weapon drop in Kuwait to organize, so you'll excuse me."

Jackson stepped away from the microphone to a deafening applause (another non-banned practice). Miss Maya escorted Jackson back to the first class cabin and closed the curtain behind him before turning back for an announcement.

"There will be a one hour break between speakers. Please use this time to use the restroom, nap, or watch the complimentary movie. No, it is _not_ 'Red Eye'. It happens to be '102 Dalmatians'. Any attempts at storming the first class cabin will be met with a swift and precise defenestration as before stated. Thank you."

The passengers realized they could now unbuckle themselves and there was a mad dash for the two restrooms, one of which had recently been vacated by Miss Maya's "son". A calm period reigned, and for one blissful hour there was a peaceful lull over the cabin.

* * *

Well, that's _that_. Or at least that's how I expect Jackson would react, should this situation ever come to pass. He may or may not be back; no promises.

I'm still accepting applications for appearances in the next chapters. For those of you who already sent in one for this chapter, you may RESUBMIT an application so you may appear in the next one. Unless I receive another e-mail, _I will not include you again_. Sorry for it.

First-timers, if you would like to be included, **DO NOT POST A BIO IN THE REVIEW**! Fill out the following fields **in an E-mail** to me titled "Red Eye Fic Bio" or something to that effect. I do not read junk mail or spam, so make sure the subject field makes sense to me.

_Name to appear in fic:_

_Physical description (hair/eye color, height, clothing style):_

_Type of Red Eyefic you write (sequel, reflective, AU):_

_Do you support the Jackson/Lisa pairing? (Yes or No):_

_Any other notes you wish to include:_


	3. Session Three: Stockholm and Pantsing

You know the drill by now. This is entirely a work of fiction, I don't really care if you think "Oh, he/she wouldn't say that!", because this is _my_ interpretation of how this would go. If you have a problem, that's too bad because I'm the author. XP

* * *

**Session Three: Stockholm Syndrome And A Pantsing**

Miss Maya stepped up to the podium again just as the last of the security checks was in place. It had been hard to make sure that every single one of the passengers was buckled and locked in, and she'd had trouble with an extremely obese woman in the back who couldn't seem to keep her girth under the strap.

"Hello again, ladies and gentleman. It's currently…" She checked a small wristwatch on her arm. "2:30 AM, and we're ready for our next speaker. May I present Ms. Lisa Reisert."

Cheers and applause ensued as the woman eased out from the velvet curtain, pushed her hair behind her ear and nervously made her way to the podium. Miss Maya smiled, conceded the floor, and took her place in the small chair to one side.

"Hi," Lisa greeted with a shaky smile. Everyone else smiled as well; _here_ was their advocate. Surely Lisa would give them a more enjoyable, fulfilling speech!

"Um, I guess I should talk to you about the stuff you've all been writing lately. At least, that's what they told me to talk about. I don't know what J-…anyone _else_ discussed."

Miss Maya sighed good-naturedly. "Frankly, Ms. Reisert, you can use this time to discuss anything you'd like. This is your chance to set the record straight, ask them questions, or just wail on them. Whatever you'd like."

Lisa shrugged. "Ok. I guess I'll ask some questions."

The audience gasped with glee. Some pulled out their laptops and hardcopies of stories they'd written for quick reference. Others brought out paper and pencils to take notes.

Suddenly a violent, quick shaking of the cabin caused a few people to gasp and Lisa to cry out in fear. When it had calmed, she straightened her blouse and laughed nervously. "Sorry. I'm still a little gun-shy of flying."

A general "Awww!" went up and the passengers smiled. She was so cute in real-life!

"Lisa, will we get to ask _you_ questions at the end?" the girl named Tess asked. "I mean, about the incident and other stuff."

"Um…I _guess_ so." They could see she was a little uneasy about discussing what had happened, but she hid it well.

"Ok, so the first thing I want to ask all of you," she began, gathering her resolve and putting on her steely act, "is _why_ would you assume I like Mr. Rippner?"

There was dead silence. The once-giddy listeners were frozen. What?

"I mean, the man terrorizes me on a plane, held my father hostage and tried to use me to set up the assassination of the Keefes. Then he tries to kill us _both_, not to mention my brother-…"

"_What_?" most of the girls demanded, "What brother?"

"Uh, my _brother_. Damion. Right over there-…holy crap! _Damion_? What are you doing on this flight?"

She had noticed and was now accosting the black-haired boy that had been sitting as a passenger for the entire ride. He shrugged and crossed his arms. "Hell if I know. I got the ticket and was told it was requested for me to be on it. I didn't know you or _he'd_ be on here. They said I might be talking too, so whatever. I don't go back to school for a week anyhow."

"Oh. But…what'd you do when J-…when he came out?"

"I holed up in the can. _Not_ the one where you two-…"

"_Yes_. Ok. Yes. We'll leave _that_ alone. Alright, well come sit with me afterwards, ok?"

"If they let me up, sure."

Meanwhile, almost the entire population of the cabin was dumbfounded. Jaws were agape. There'd been no mention of a brother in the movie! What was going on?

Miss Maya stood. "Perhaps I should clear this up right now. Damion is an original character I created in a fanfiction titled 'Stitches'. If you watch the movie again, notice one of the scenes in the house takes place in a dark-green room with lots of trophies and things in it. It looked like a brother's room. Hence, Damion.

"The rest of his story he can tell you himself if he feels like it. But we're saving that 'till his proper speaking time. Right now, Ms. Reisert has the floor and I'd appreciate it if you held off any questions about her brother." She sat back down.

Lisa turned back to the crowd. "Anyway, as I was saying, why on earth would you think I would be _attracted_ to a man like that? Does Stockholm Syndrome _really_ appeal to all of you that much? I suppose you all write stories about Christine having a thing for the phantom of the opera, too!"

This was met with a guilty silence.

"I'm just saying, most of the time, romantic relationships start out with a chance meeting, dinner and a movie. Not a pre-meditated meeting, a bay breeze and a stalker!"

She took a moment to adjust her hair, which had fallen in her face yet again. Taking a deep breath, she sighed and looked up. "I just don't see why any of you would try to make it look like I enjoyed the experience in the end. Anyone want to explain it to me?"

Lisa pointed to one girl who was typing furiously. "You. Please tell me that's not _another_ one of those awful romantic sequels."

She glanced up from her laptop and bit her bottom lip. "Well…"

"What's your name?"

"Lauren. And it's not really a _sequel_. It's more of a record of this flight. I _might_ use it in a story later on-…"

"No you won't." Miss Maya stood and stared her down. "Everything that goes on in this plane is strictly copyrighted to the party that paid for it. All your laptops and writing utensils will be checked for records when we land, so don't even bother trying to write about it. Anyone caught with a record will be severely dealt with."

"Oh." Lauren took one last look at her already three-paged entry and deleted it. Several other girls did the same with muffled griping.

"Who paid for this, anyway?" Lauren inquired.

Miss Maya smiled. "That's for me to know and you to most likely never find out."

The passengers frowned as Lisa tried to get their attention again.

"Ahem. As I was saying, I've-…"

"HEY! Jackson said the exact same thing!" one of the girls sitting near the front cried out in glee. "See? You two even _think_ the same! You should totally-…!"

The girl didn't have time to get the rest of the sentence out. Lisa had already bolted over and slapped her across the face. A general gasp went up as Ms. Reisert stood, trembling with fury, trying not to physically assault the girl, who cowered in her seat and cradled her swiftly reddening cheek.

"_I do not like him at all!_" she hissed. "He is a murdering, manipulative, conniving son of a-…"

"I'VE ALREADY INFORMED MR. RIPPNER THAT THE SWEARING IS NOT TO BE TOLORATED. AND IF YOU WOULD BE SO KIND AS TO TRY TO REFRAIN FROM INJURING THE PASSENGERS, WE'D APPRECIATE IT. HOWEVER, WE UNDERSTAND THAT THINGS DO HAPPEN AND IF ANOTHER IGNORANT REMARK IS MADE YOU WILL BE FORGIVEN FOR MAULING THE NAÏVE SPEAKER."

She bit her bottom lip and fumed. "He is a sub-human _monster_ and I will _never_ have any feelings for him save for deep loathing. Any questions?"

"So…you don't support the fics we write?"

Lisa rolled her eyes and flexed her fingers as if aching to sink them into the speaker's eyes. "No. I. Do. Not."

"But it just seems like-…"

"_Okay_!" Miss Maya interrupted. "We need a break before Ms. Reisert snaps and murders one of you clearly tactless authors. Ms. Reisert, you're excused. We'll get you a squishy stress-ball to alleviate your tension. The rest of you take a break. Damion, get up and come with me."

He stood, leapt over his partner's legs, and strolled up the aisle very nonchalantly. They watched him go and disappear behind the velvet curtain.

A group of about five girls near the front were whispering furiously once again.

"She _said_ there was a partition between them…"

"And she's busy making Lisa comfortable right now!"

"There's five of us. If we rush it, we can make it!"

"Let's do it!"

No one noticed as they slowly slid up to the curtain that separated the coach cabin from the first-class section. Suddenly they darted through and a loud cry from Jackson rose up. The passengers only listened in amazement as the next events unfolded.

"Holy Hell!"

"We love you, Jackson! We want to bear your children!"

"What's going on in-…SECURITY! Five parachutes, NOW!"

"Help me! One of them's got my hair! What happened to my belt? _Give me my pants back, you-…_!"

"I've got them!"

Suddenly one of the girls came sprinting through the cabin holding a pair of men's suit pants like a trophy above her head. She ran down the aisle, leaping over legs and bodies until she managed to barricade herself in the restroom.

There was mayhem as two men in black suits and sunglasses came through the cabin, one of them holding a small silver key and another holding an insidious-looking backpack. In a matter of moments, they'd opened the bathroom, pulled her out, liberated the pants and strapped the pack on her back.

Carrying her kicking and screaming up to the front, they disappeared behind the curtain. A sudden draft told the passengers to look out the window and sure enough, there went five figures off into the clouds, deploying their parachutes and fading into the distance.

Miss Maya came out, a dark scowl on her face. "Let that be a lesson to _all_ of you: the next one that tries molesting our guests again will get worse than a kick out the airlock. I'm almost shocked that you're capable of that kind of _filthy_ attempt at getting Mr. Rippner's attention and frankly he's very upset as well. If another incident like that occurs, we will land this plane with _no_ more interviews. Do I make myself clear?"

A furious nodding of heads.

As she was heading back towards the front, she turned back and let out a quick smirk before disappearing again.

"He was wearing green-striped white boxers."

* * *

Heh. Come on, you can't blame me for noticing. It's one of the perks of being the Co-Pilot; I get to see and talk to them all I want. Apparently, Jackson does _not_ like olives on his nachos (he scrapes them off)and Lisa has not drunk a sea breeze OR a bay breeze since the incident, excluding tonight when she wanted a stiff drink to get her through the night.

Also, Jackson wouldn't mind speaking again (even _after_ the pantsing incident), so long as no one tries to convince him of his and Lisa's "love". Lisa's still a bit put out. It's likely she won't be appearing again.

Damion however has his interview coming up, as well as any other Red Eye OC's. More about that below.

* * *

I still want authors involved in this, and there's always room for more. For those of you who already sent in one for this chapter, you may RESUBMIT an application so you may appear in the next one. Unless I receive another e-mail, _I will not include you again_. 

First-timers, if you would like to be included, **DO NOT POST A BIO IN THE REVIEW**! Fill out the following fields **in an E-mail** to me titled "Red Eye Fic Bio" or something to that effect. I do not read junk mail or spam, so make sure the subject field makes sense to me.

_Name to appear in fic:_

_Physical description (hair/eye color, height, clothing style):_

_Type of Red Eyefic you write (sequel, reflective, AU):_

_Do you support the Jackson/Lisa pairing? (Yes or No):_

_Any other notes you wish to include:_

_

* * *

_

If you have an OC you would like me to include in the next interview, please **send me an E-mail **titled "Red Eye OC story" telling me the URL of your fanfiction. I will read it and use your character in my next chapter. I will give you proper copyright.

BE WARNED! I am a 3rd-party reader! I do not intimately know your character, especially if your story is very long or incomplete. If you're going to be offended if I make them say something or do something you don't condone, _do not_ send me your information. Once you send me your URL, you are handing me unlimited artistic liscence and while I promise not to intentionally butcher your character, I am going to try to have fun with them.


	4. Session Four: Dame Goes To Town

(A/N): Sorry kids, no cameos in this chapter. Most of my request e-mails were somehow deleted from the system. If you want to appear in the next chapter, remember to fill out a form and e-mail it to me.

* * *

**Session Four: Damion Goes To Town**

Miss Maya cleared her throat. "Ahem. Now that you're all properly secured…" She glanced around at the passengers. Some of them were a rather interesting shade of blue or purple. However, these certain unlucky travelers were ones who had attempted to fake their being buckled down. Now, they were paying the price.

"Now that you're all secured, we can begin the next section. This time, we'll have some original characters speak on their own behalf. You're welcome to ask them a little about their background, but we'd appreciate it if you tried to learn some of the advantages to creating a truly original and interesting 'OC'.

"We'll begin with Master Damion Reisert, featured in the story titled 'Stitches'."

Out of the entrance that led to Lisa's half of the first class cabin came the teenage boy. He stepped up to the podium, a rather sullen expression on his mistreated face, and frowned at the congregation.

"So why am _I_ the only one to suffer in silence?" he demanded of them. "How come there's no more like me? Jesus Christ, all you girls do is piss and moan about 'Oh, Lisa's in _love_ with him even though he tried to _kill her_!' God forbid you come up with something more than a whiny little rant on how she gets kidnapped again a month later and suddenly this entirely unbelievable relationship spawns!"

There was a pause while he took a deep breath and made a disgusted sound. "But I guess you've heard that enough tonight. Go on. Ask me anything."

More silence. Most of them were afraid to invoke this obviously unstable boy's wrath.

"Come on. You're not mute. Or did I not hear one of you screaming about the pants you pulled off the bas-…"

"MASTER REISERT, YOU'LL KEEP YOUR TONGUE IN CHECK. SINCE YOU TOOK THE STAGE, YOU'VE MADE RELIGIOUS REFERENCES, USED THE LORD'S NAME IN VAIN, AND OUTRIGHT AND UNPROVOKEDLY INSULTED THE GENERAL POPULATION. WE'RE NOT AGAINST STRAPPING A PARACHUTE ON _YOU_, YOU KNOW."

Damion glanced to the speaker and sneered. "Whatever." Turning back to the women, he shrugged. "So go on. Ask me something. Make this trip not a total waste of my time."

A girl with light-brown hair and grayish-blue eyes put up her hand. "Um, how did you fit into the Red Eye universe?"

He shrugged. "My creator told you. She saw a room in the house and thought it could go with a brother. Then she made me up."

"But…_how_? I mean, how does she just see something so…_insignificant_ and just _make up_ a character?"

"Why don't you ask her? And I don't appreciate you calling my room 'insignificant'. To me, it's a big detail." He frowned.

Another girl put up her hand. "Why should we bother creating major original characters when there are so many ways to re-use Jackson and Lisa?"

Damion rolled his eyes. "Because there _aren't_. You're not getting this: the fact that one or two of you decided to give them a romance is forgivable. Why not? No one outlaws 'A.U.'s', or 'alternate universes' for those of you who don't know fanfiction acronyms. But when almost every last story encompasses a romance between the two, people start believing it's canon and then _they_ write more of it until it's way to used up. Seriously, the genre's been beaten to death and peed on by dingo dogs.

"The advantage to making a major O.C. – besides alleviating some of the pressure on _me_ – is that you're not only breaking the mold, you're being forced to explore new territory. You're being forced to get inside someone else's head who wasn't there before, someone new and fresh and deep enough for you to develop and get your readers to love or hate. Hell, properly executed, you could probably get them hooked on someone _other_ than Rippner."

The girls seemed to accept this and a few looked like they were making mental notes to try it. However, most of the population remained indignant; they didn't like their work being criticized by this non-canon character who hadn't even been in the _movie_, bedroom excuse be damned.

Another girl, one of the slightly insulted, pouted and folded her arms. "Why do you not like Jackson?"

Damion broke out a manic smile and threw back his head, laughing. "Hah ha ha…! Ah…oh God, did you seriously just ask me that?"

She nodded, dumbfounded. "Uh, _yes_."

"You're not just pulling my leg? You _seriously_ don't know?"

"No…"

"Where the hell do you think I got all these cuts? I suppose this massive collection of scars just _popped_ up overnight!"

"Well, how are we supposed to know? _Jackson_ gave them to you?"

"Rippner. Yeah."

"And you're not…you know…_mad_?"

"Mad?" Damion cocked his head and leaned over the podium. "Mad? God, no. I'm _insane_ with how much I hate the man. Not _just_ because he slit my throat and filleted me slowly, but because of all the other crap he did to my family. You think that kind of stuff is _forgivable_?

"If I could get away with it, I'd go in there right now and tear him apart with my bare hands. _My bare hands_. I'd want to pull his eyes out and peel his skin off like mine was."

A few girls gagged and one threw up in her baggie. Miss Maya commented, "Dame, try not to get too graphic."

"I'm just sayin', is all. I honestly though it would have gone without saying."

"Well, not everyone's read your story, honey. They don't _know_ why you're covered with those scars or why you're infuriated with Mr. Rippner."

"Well _you're_ the one to blame for all of it, but you don't see me pissing off at _you_."

"Yes, dear, but then again I _am_ the one who created you, and you never bite the hand that feeds you."

He turned back to the audience. "Any other questions?"

"Just one, Mr. Reisert," one of the girls in the middle blushed. "Can I get your number?"

He paused and there were mass giggles. "Um…ask Maya."

With that, he went back up front again and Miss Maya shook her head at the last girl. "Sorry, honey. Dame's not available."

"Why not?"

"Well, for one he's a fictional character and when you have an imaginary boyfriend, people think you're not alright upstairs. For two, I'm thinking of involving him with a nice girl at Florida State. You haven't got a snowball's chance in Hell."

"Oh." Her face crestfallen, the girl retreated to hide in her seat.

* * *

Sorry, no major humor for this chapter. Since Damion is mostly unknown and his story isn't even finished, I can't right well make a big joke out of him. He's just there to voice my concerns for the serious lack of OC's.

The next few chapters, I'm planning on bringing Cynthia out and Jackson back. Again, I need re-submitted bios if you want to be included. Thanks for your patience, guys. It means a lot to me that people are still interested, and even more that people like to be involved.

Till next time!

* * *

* * *

**EDIT** A/N: Ok, I seem to be getting a bit of negative feedback because I didn't include anyone else's character in this chapter. Let me make this perfectly clear: it is NOT because I did not want to. If I didn't want to, I wouldn't have advertised it, would I have? I did not include any simply because no major OC's were sent to me! At least, none in usable condition. Please don't critisize me for something I have no control over. I simply published this chapter because I wanted to get it out and not waste my time waiting around for submissions that were obviously not coming. If someone has a big problem with that, then you can send me an OC and I'll include it in another chapter. 

In other news, apparently I've been pinned for a one-minded skeptic of any type of fic that I don't write. Now, I can't hope to defend this, because if I said I wasn't one-minded it would imply that I have multiple minds and then they'd cart me off to the crazy-house. But let's turn back time and go back to the first chapter, where I placed the disclaimer, and I quote:

_"This is purely meant as a work of comic humor and fanfiction. It is not intended to offend or impugne the writing skills of any of my fellow writers. It is simply my take on how I would like to voice my own God-given right to an opinion."_

This fic wasn't originally meant to cater to the likes and dislikes of every single author out there. When I ask to include other authors, I simply thought maybe they'd like the concept. I even try to include their ideas that they send to me about what their characters will do.

Now usually, I accept all reviews;faves and _founded_ flames all stay on the site. But from here on in, comsider yourselves warned. I don't take kindly to flames for a fic I'm just having fun with and am not intending to be my greatest life work. So if you've got something nasty to say, you better make sure it's backed by cold fact and not just your opinion of me.

In summary, I'll quote my single and steadfast maxim: "If you don't like it, don't read it."


	5. Session Five: Jack Is Back

(A/N) Sorry it took so long, kids. I had to fit a lot of names in, and finding more questions for everyone's favorite male lead was tough. Hope you enjoy, but then again I've said it before and I'll say it again: I don't much care if you don't.

**WARNING! **This chapter is rated PG13 for language and slight content. If you're offended, don't read. If not, enjoy.

* * *

**Session Five: Jack Is Back**

Two of the security men served drinks as the passengers sighed. It had been over an hour since they'd had a speaker and some of the girls were getting restless. There'd been muffled arguing from the Reisert's half of the first-class cabin and soft discussion from Rippner's half, so it was anyone's guess as to what the staff had planned.

Finally, after an achingly long time, Miss Maya made her reappearance to a frenzy of claps and a few scattered "finally!"s.

"Ahem," she began, clearing her throat over the applause. "Ahem!" No response.

HEY, FANGIRLS! SHUT UP AND LET THE WOMAN START THE PROGRAM BACK UP AGAIN!

Instant vacuum prevailed.

"I realize you may be slightly put out that we've been behind schedule for an hour, but there's been some technical difficulties. I am sorry to state that Mr. Joseph Reisert has refused to speak tonight."

There were a few groans and mutterings. Miss Maya glared and again, silence reigned.

"He has said so on the grounds that, and I quote, 'My input has nothing to do with this and it's really just a waste of all our time. I know my daughter isn't attracted to the man and I'm sorry I didn't shoot him in the head'. Those who agree with his opinion, well, you got your wish. Again, Mr. Reisert will not be speaking.

"However," she smirked, "We have a treat that may make up for his absence. Mr. Rippner has complied to speak once again, now that his business in Kuwait is concluded."

There was a deafening screech of joy and Miss Maya grimaced. "There will be, however, an amendment or two to the rules as such: no one will be allowed to ask him a question without him calling on them. There will be no references to certain incidents that have taken place during this flight. There will be no questions pertaining to his alleged 'romantic' relationship with Ms. Reisert. We still have plenty of parachutes left for anyone who breaks these and any of the pre-existing rules."

The girls cheered and readied themselves. Miss Maya made sure everyone was properly buckled before going to fetch Mr. Rippner.

* * *

Jackson stepped out, adjusting his tie and staring the women down, daring them to bring up the topic of what had happened earlier. Instantly, every eye in the cabin strayed to his pants and a few giggles sounded before he hid the lower half of his body behind the podium. 

Miss Maya was attempting to cover up a smirk herself. "Alright folks, Mr. Rippner has agreed to a second interview, so be polite and ask him some questions."

A girl with long brown hair raised her hand. He pointed to her and she gave a quick smile. "Hey, I'm Rebekah. There's been some debate, and I thought I'd ask: did you actually kill your parents?"

He rolled his eyes. "Didn't I say before I didn't care about your names? And yes, ok? I did indeed kill my own parents. But it wasn't cold blooded. It was more of an indifferent thing. I set the house on fire and walked out. I just did it in the middle of the night and decided not to wake them."

There was only the slightest pause before a couple girls, mostly those who admired his style, gave "ooh!'s and "ah!"s. He smirked and glanced around for another question.

One girl, by the name of Destiny, who'd been rather confused about their previous speaker, decided to work together to ask their question. "What exactly did you do to Damion Reisert?"

Jackson took a moment to recall and then threw back his head and laughed, getting back into a good mood. "Oh boy. He was a pistol, that one."

"Did you give him all those scars?"

"You're damn right I did. Carved that boy up like a Christmas turkey. Brat deserved it."

Another girl by the name of Caryn (who apparently had no fear whatsoever of the new policies) asked, "So if you don't have anything for Lisa, do you have a significant other somewhere?"

Jackson shrugged, then grinned. "That's absolutely none of your business."

There were hushed mumblings and excited squeals, reminding listeners yet again of a tribe of flustered marshmallow peeps.

"I can tell you, however," he continued, "that should I have such a significant other, she certainly wouldn't be your arbiter here." He looked playfully to Miss Maya, who looked to him, then to the amazed passengers with an expression of pure, flustered denial.

"No, no!" she waved her hands and shook her head. "I am _not_!"

"Oh, come on," he purred, deciding to mess around with the audience a little, sensing their hanging on every word of this specific answer. He sauntered over and grabbed the co-pilot, dipping her down in a mock-tango move. "Why lie to them?"

"Jackson," she hissed. "If you don't lift me up and let me go, I will make personally sure you never have children. These girls would _lynch_ me if they believed this tripe."

He resigned to defeat and replaced the slightly irked Miss Maya in her seat before taking the stand again. It was tough to command silence again after this, and henceforth the mediator got sporadic dirty looks from a few of the adamant Jackson fangirls.

One girl, named Amanda, played nervously with her skirt trim while raising her hand. He pointed to her and she asked her question not much louder than a whisper. "Um, are you planning to continue your career much longer?"

"Well, if I was, do you think I'd tell you?" he smirked.

"I just meant, after all that…wouldn't you want to think about a new line of work?"

He considered this. "If I wanted to, maybe I would. But this is what I'm good at. I'll stick to my strengths."

They accepted this. However, one rather condescending girl, who was sitting in the front row window seat, sniffed. "If you're so good at what you do, then why would you leave a variable like Joe Reisert alive while you chased down his daughter?"

The room froze. Had she actually criticized him?

Jackson blinked. Then, with a slow, dangerous smile spreading, he leaned against the side of the stand and cocked his head. "You. I suppose _you're_ another romance writer."

She made a retching sound. "Absolutely _not_."

He made a slightly surprised face. "Really? What's your name?"

She smirked. "Jen. My handle is 'Ima Pseudonym'.

There was a dead silence as Jackson Rippner's face became expressionless. They watched as his hands grasped the podium, his knuckles going white and his face tinting red.

"Y-…_you_…!" he hissed.

She sat, calm and composed, as a couple girls whispered nearby.

"What's the deal?" one girl who wore a nametag that read "Vera Luna"– which was interesting enough by itself, as no nametags had been issued asked of her fellow passenger. "Why's he all…pissed?"

The other one, who had previously introduced herself to Vera as "Kait" answered with an expression of terror on her face, whispered back, "That's 'Ima Pseudonym'! She wrote a fic called 'Red Eyes Cry Blood'."

"So?"

"_So_? I read it! It's not pretty. It's not a love story; not by a long shot. What she did to Jackson…it was _awful_!"

Meanwhile, said terrorist was staring at the girl, his body trembling and his eyes narrowed with rage. Suddenly, he lunged.

She let out a cry of pain as he yanked her out of her seat, breaking the belt and slamming her up against the wall. No one but Miss Maya could do anything as they were all locked down. As the mediator struggled to pull him off, he was screaming in fury.

"You little _bitch_! I can't believe you would write that! My experience in prison was _not_ for anyone else's eyes, name changes be damned! I don't know how you knew or how you got that information, but I swear I'm gonna make you pay, you-…!"

"Mr. Rippner! Let her go! Let her _go_!" Miss Maya cried, trying to pry his iron grip away from the girl's throat.

"I'm going to pull out your spine and _hang_ you with it!" he continued.

Jen wasn't screaming. Instead she was simply clawing at his hands, eyes rolling and lungs struggling to pull in air. "Didn't…know!" she rasped.

"The _fuck_ you didn't!" he bellowed, shrugging off Miss Maya's attacks and tossing the girl across the cabin. She landed hard on the floor and let out a gurgling gasp of pain.

Meanwhile, two security guards has already restrained Mr. Rippner and started pulling him back to his cabin amid fervid death threats issued from said captive. Jen had already crawled back to her seat and had composed herself.

Miss Maya brought her a bottle of water and an ice pack. "I'm so sorry about that. He's just been under a lot of stress lately."

"It's ok…" she managed to grin. "Him knowing who I am is kind of cool."

"Well, your story certainly made waves. I don't think we can let him talk any more tonight."

There was a rising collective groan. "Thanks a lot!" a girl dressed suspiciously like Trinity from The Matrix snarled at her. "I finally get to see the guy and you chase him off!"

"Yeah, thanks for nothing!" another, named Tiffany, snapped. "I had a question for him!

A couple more girls put up the same argument, with a few nasty threats shoved in there for good measure. One of them frowned on all this complaining and was heard to say, "That's not how you make friends!"

PASSENGERS WILL SHUT UP. NOW THAT OUR RATING IS SUFFICIENTLY RUINED, IT'S TIME WE ALL QUIETED DOWN. DESCENT WILL BEGIN SHORTLY.

Another moan went up, but the captain's voice continued. THIS IS NOT TO CLAIM WE DON'T HAVE ANY MORE SPEAKERS FOR YOU. THERE WILL BE ONE MORE SESSION, ONE WHICH _NONE_ OF YOU WILL BE ALLOWED TO SPEAK IN.

The passengers, very confused, looked to one another for an explanation that simply didn't exist. They soon however settled back into their chairs to wait for the final interview.

* * *

Well, there you go. As the man said, NO ONE will be speaking in the next chapter. No one, that is, except the members of the final interview. So I do NOT want to see an application to be included. It will be disregarded and deleted. 

However, I am running a CONTEST! (insert cheer #4 here)

The singular winner will be featured in the final session of this story. It entails fun, fun stuff, but not just stuff that can be enjoyed by said winner. Other readers will find it entertaining as well, so I say in advance: in case you don't win, be sure to check back in when the final chapter rolls around.

The rules are thus: Send me an e-mail **(NOT A REVIEW) **titled "Red Eye Contest" describing why you think you deserve to win. That's all. The most original or funniest or simply the one I like best will be victorious. There is no deadline save the date I post the final chapter, and there will be no announcement of the winner. You'll just have to come see for yourself.


End file.
